The Acceptance of Age
by WrittenFiction
Summary: Mulder and Scully investigate a series of deaths among the elderly populous in a small New England town- is it natural causes or something more sinister? Update in progress.
1. A First Impression

**A/N: This story is a product of many, many hours riding a train to get to and from New York Comic Con...and my excitement from meeting David and Gillian. Needless to say, it was produced on a post-fangasm high and probably reads that way as well. However, I hope you enjoy reading it at least a fraction of how much I enjoyed writing it. **

"The wild hills are before us, where song and witchery lurk"

-HP Lovecraft, Vermont: A First Impression

* * *

"Hey, Scully, Check this out."

Scully looked up in time to see a file landing on her desk. Reaching for it, she asked, "What's this about, Mulder?"

"We've got a case. In Woodscraft, Vermont. Multiple deaths and missing persons."

"Mulder, surely missing persons and homicide can be handled by the local PD and field office."

Mulder grinned. "In a town in the middle of Nowhere, Vermont, the only crime being committed is stoned teenagers. The local police are in over their heads. The FBI field office in Vermont is more of a park ranger service. And," he added, nodding toward the open case file, "I'm sure you'll find something a little weird is going on with the victims. We're being called in"

He reached for his coat. "I'm going to call it a day. The plane tickets are in the file. I'll pick you up for the airport at six, okay?"

Scully forced herself to look up from the folder to answer him. "Yeah, six O'Clock."

When Mulder left, she gazed back down at the contents in her hands.

A man stared blankly up from a photograph, half his face buried in the ground. From his facial orifices, small vines and budding leaves protruded, working their way towards the earth, entwining themselves over his still features.

* * *

Mulder was right. Nowhere, Vermont perfectly described Woodscraft. The fall foliage was beautiful, but that was simply a product of being in New England. Aside from the few attractive houses that spoke of old railroad money and design, the rest of the town was an example of living on the brink of poverty.

The Main Street itself was only a few open shops and restaurants. The rest of the buildings, though potentially beautiful from a historical context, were empty or impersonal law offices. The rest of the "City," as the people called it, were cheap houses built during the 70's for families or subsidized apartments for recently paroled ex cons.

Charming small town, indeed.

Scully sighed as they drove past a woman screaming profanity at her five children, who were all dressed in pajamas.

She hoped that the case would wrap up soon.

The small town wasn't difficult to navigate, and as the police department and the fire station occupied the same large building, it was easy to find. It was a two story brown building with a large, fire truck size garage. Like the rest of the town, it had nondescript features and, as Mulder noted ironically, made of wood.

Good thing there was always a firetruck around.

Surprisingly, they finally got their first taste of Northern Vermont hospitality at the hands of the local police- something that rarely happened when they impinged on the cases of small town police departments.

"Yeah, I'm real glad you guys could make it all the way from DC," the Sheriff glanced over his shoulder at the agents as he led them through a series of small corridors. "We don' see much activity outside of drug busts out here and even that is mostly just goin' through the motions." He stopped in front of a door and faced them. "Not to say that we don' keep up with the crime, Agents. But in a small town like this, sometimes it's easier to let the young people smoke their dope instead of just looting an' resorting to violence an' the like." Mulder nodded, and gave a subtle gesture towards the door as Scully grimaced, hoping that she could pass on a noncommittal noise of the throat. But the Sheriff seemed to sense her lack of acceptance. Unlocking the door, he continued.

"Look, I know we mus' seem pretty backwoods up here, an' for the mos' part, we are. An' I know your idear of upholding the law is a bit diff'rent than ours, but we do hold our own. An' quite frankly, Agents, the prison has been trying to get a hold of run down apartment buildings for years. He sat down with a sigh behind his desk. "Won' be long before the ex cons and gang members are running the show. Might as well enjoy the peace an' tranquility now."

"Sheriff Ambler," Scully gave an internal sigh of relief when Mulder finally broke in. "We're here to solve this case. Unless this becomes an issue of narcotics then we will be focusing on finding whoever is committing these murders-if there is, in fact, a murderer."

Ambler shot him a look. "You mean you don' think these are murders?"

Mulder shrugged. "All of these victims are in their sixties or seventies. It is quite possible that they've died of natural causes- or something else."

"But Agent Mulder, the bodies-"

Mulder held up his hand and responded amicably, "Agent Scully is also a pathologist. She can do the autopsies and discover what has happened to these people. Until we know for sure, we can't make any assumptions." He waited a beat as the information sunk in and Ambler looked at Scully, impressed. "Well, if that's the case, folks, we bes' get movin'. Tell you what, the town closes up after five so you won't be able to get much done anyhow. The hospital is still open, though, so you can do Dmitri's autopsy. And I can help Agent Mulder here check in to the hotel."

Scully nodded. "Thank you. Can you recommend a place to stay?"

The Sheriff grinned. "Sure thing, Agent Scully. The Back Inn Time Bed And Breakfast. They're the only place in town an' I can talk to Amie and Jeff about extending your stay for more than jus' a few nights."

The Agents thanked him and went to do what they did best.

**A/N: Yes, some Vermonters actually cut off their "t's" and add the letter "r" at the end of "idea." Don't ask me why, that's just the way that they talk. If you need help translatin', just shoot me a message :)**


	2. The Victims

"While romantics admire our white church steeples, I worry about what's lurking in their shadows...Shadows. Shades. Things unseen. Wonders not yet cataloged. It's the _other side_ of Vermont-the darker side. "

-Joseph A. Citro, Green Mountain Ghosts, Ghouls, and Unsolved Mysteries

* * *

Mulder and Ambler had managed to secure two connecting rooms, after convincing Amie that though it was tourist season, the Inn would not be full anytime soon. Fortunately, they also managed to to gain permission to stay for an indefinite amount of time-so long as the rooms didn't fill, of course. After gathering more personal information about the victims from Ambler, Mulder sat down on his bed and began to review the file.

Kenneth Ashton. Seventy three years old at the time of death, though still healthy by all other measures. He was well liked and known among the locals, having run a sugar house that provided maple syrup to more than a few Main Street businesses. Until the time of his death, that is. Mrs. Ashton's testimony stated that Kenneth had left his home sometime in the evening of September 29th to take stock of his available materials in the sugar house, only to show up dead four days later in the woods by his workplace. According to the pathologist who'd autopsied him, Kenneth's body appeared to have been sitting out for more than just a few days. It had been bloated, and his skin had taken on the discoloring of decomposition and fluid had begun to leak from his mouth and nose.

Mulder dug his glasses from his pocket and put them on as he leaned back against the headboard, focusing more closely on the report. At first, the pathologist had assumed death by exposure and old age. Upon closer inspection, he found that something had been terribly wrong with Ashton's body. Once the man's center cavity was exposed, the doctor did not find decaying organs and gas, but something altogether different.

The intestines and stomach area were crawling with beetles and maggots, and the lining of his muscles were covered in a mucus-like brown substance. The bones that were exposed had deep grooves in them.

Mulder grimaced at the photos accompanying the autopsy report, slightly disgusted. He forced himself to look more carefully at the close up of Aston's chest and noticed that the bones were, in fact, covered in lines. But they weren't the lines of a knife or any scraping.

They looked like natural grooves that formed in tree bark.

How the hell had all this happened without the man previously being cut open?

Mulder sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Many hours and three crime scene reports later, Mulder heard Scully enter her room and shuffle things around. He remembered when they'd been first partnered together, and asking for adjoining rooms had been an awkward yet necessary aspect of working on the road. Though it made the passing of information and communication easier, it had seemed too intimate to him, listening to the muffled rasp of her sliding into bed, the movements he heard when she used the bathroom, the phone calls she'd occasionally make to her mother after a long day. He had hated the fact that he had liked Scully from the very beginning, and the fact that he found himself listening to her nightly rituals each night, making sure everything was okay, and half hoping that she would need him for something- like that night in Oregon during their first case together-made him want to push her away even more.

Now, he found comfort in knowing she was next to him and that she'd soon be in his room, ready to talk about the case.

He heard a soft knock on his door and smiled. Just as he expected.

Scully entered Mulder's room to find him resting against his headboard, the case and autopsy files spread out around him on the bed. He nodded at her in acknowledgement before turning his attention to what she guessed was a particularly gruesome crime scene photo. Sitting on the edge of the bed she waited, knowing that Mulder needed the time to piece together the crimes in his mind, filing away even the most mundane details for later use. It had taken her a few months to get used to this technique of his, and at first, had been frustrated by the fact that he wasn't sharing his discoveries with her until he had reached his own conclusion. Now, she was not only used to it, but knew that they both worked better this way: if Mulder stopped and talked about every piece of evidence with her to argue about, they would never have a chance to see the full picture.

After a few minutes, Mulder looked up and greeted her. "So, Scully, find anything interesting with Dmitri Samoset?"

Scully smiled grimly and answered, "Interesting as in something helpful or interesting as in the same as the rest of the bodies?"

Mulder looked at her sympathetically. "Judging by your tone I'm guessing it's the latter."

She sighed. "No outward sign of trauma, needle marks, or suffocation of any kind. Toxicology didn't reveal anything, so that rules out drugs and the use of narcotics. " She handed him her findings. "And, once again, all we found inside the body was evidence of long term exposure and decomposition. The only difference this time was that whatever the hell had gotten inside of him was starting to come out."

Mulder nodded and opened the file. He glanced briefly at Scully's notes before turning his attention to the photos. Flipping through them, he found one of the body after it had been opened. He turned back towards Scully. "At least there were no bugs this time."

She left out a huff of air. "No. But...Mulder, how did this man, with no previous signs of injury, have his organs removed and replaced with plant roots? It's physically impossible."

"Maybe he swallowed a watermelon seed."

Scully shot him a warning look. "Children's myths aside Mulder, I have no explanation for how this man-or any of the others- died like this. It certainly isn't from old age."

"Not old age, maybe, but definitely natural causes."

Scully rolled her eyes. "Funny, Mulder. What have you found?"

Mulder shrugged, "Nothing much. All of the victims are in their late sixties or early seventies-but you already knew that. Two of them were brothers-"

"I noticed that. Do you think there's a connection there?"

"I would, but according to Sheriff Ambler and the families, they got along well but interacted with different social groups. They were close when together, but other than that, the people they saw didn't overlap too much. I don't see someone becoming ticked off enough at the both of them to kill them, if they had such different personalities. And unless it was someone much younger, I don't see one of their nursing home friends killing both of them at the same time in the middle of the woods."

"What about a relative? A beneficiary?"

Mulder shook his head. "No, they have no family in Vermont, and that doesn't explain the other victims."

Okay, so they weren't getting any further with that route. Mulder continued, knowing Scully would want to hear more about the case, having only just glanced over it due to time constraints and the rickety flight into the Vermont airport providing far from ideal reading conditions.

"The first victim was Kenneth Ashton, and he was popular in this area, and still in great shape according his doctor. There's almost zero chance he would have due to exposure the night he died, because it was still in the sixties, and he often claimed to know the woods better than anyone else in town, because he grew up and worked in them."

"So unless we're looking for a murderer, which you suggest is not the case, you're saying that these people by all counts should still be alive, despite their age?"

"That's why it's called an X File, Scully."

She ignored his comment. "What about the second victim? Doris Rue?"

"Doris also knew the forest well. She used to lead field trips on the nature trails for the local high school. It wasn't hiking so much as it was her teaching kids how to tell red pines from white pines, how to identify tracks and which plants were safe to eat if they ever got lost. If Doris got lost in the woods, she should have been able to find her way back before anything happened. "

"And no suspects?"

"Her husband was on watch for a while, but as no drugs were found in her system, they ruled him out. You can't do much when you're stuck inside your home all day for three years due to illness."

"What does he have?" Scully wondered.

"COPD."

"Chronic obstructive lung disease," she murmured. "Which means that even if he could leave the house, the effort it would have taken to kill Doris would have made it nearly impossible for him to breathe and to do whatever it is that's happening to these people."

"Yep. Now there's Christopher Hardack, but his body hasn't yet been found." Mulder chewed the inside of his cheek. "I think he has to be dead, like the others. He was the third to disappear, and it's doubtful that he would have been kept alive longer than the later victims."

"So either his body was hidden well, or he simply died too far from civilization for someone to find him."

Mulder nodded. "Hardack was younger than the rest of these people- early fifties. But he was an avid hiker. His eyes narrowed in thought. "He ran for mayor once and lost, due to allegations that he was cheating the voting system. Maybe someone..." He sighed. "But then there's the Timov brothers, and we already know there's no connection there. Neither of them are affiliated with politics. And Dmitri Samoset. I looked over his background while you were completing his autopsy. Unlike the others, he didn't really have a large social life up here. And he sure as hell wasn't worried about a man who ran for mayor before he even came to the States. He frequently shopped at the local natural foods store, but other than that, he kept to himself."

Scully's brow furrowed. "He didn't live in town, did he?"

"No, he lived in a cabin in the woods, about two miles from here."

"I'm guessing you want to check out his cabin tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but first I want to interview the people at the food store. Maybe they can tell us something more than the mostly already-dead relatives of the other victims."

"I hope you're a little more sensitive about it than that during the interviews tomorrow."

"Me? Sensitive? Always, Scully. Always."

She softly smiled and got up to go to her room, not bothering to tell him how accurate his final statement was.


	3. The Isolated Foreigner

**A/N: Last chapter was dull, I know. Thanks for sticking by this long.**

"I lived on Earth

I died on Earth

In Earth I am interred..."

-Gravestone in Ryegate, Vermont.

* * *

The next day was gray. Scully awoke to find her room nearly colorless, despite the open blinds letting in the morning light. Turning on the bedside lamp didn't do much other than make the gray seem a little more yellow, giving the room itself a sickly pallor. Already feeling the chill of the morning pervading her bed, Scully got up and took a quick shower, hoping to warm herself up, but already knowing she'd be cold again as soon as the water stopped running.

Scully made her way down stairs, finding Mulder already dressed and eating. Sitting down across from him, she noted that he'd ordered her coffee and a breakfast of eggs Benedict that was waiting for her. For a moment she wondered how he could have known what she wanted for breakfast, but shrugged it off. Of course he knew.

He was Mulder.

After discussing their options, they both decided it was better to interview potential witnesses at the shop first, then find a guide a bring them to Samoset's cabin. Apparently, there were no maps or roads leading to his home and it would be difficult to find without any real directions. From there, they'd be able to determine what the best course of action would be.

The store in question- "Woodscraft Foods," was one of the largest shops on Main Street. It had large front and side windows that advertised the inside goods without much effort. Scully noticed that it was one of the older buildings. Apparently, all the nicer shops in Woodscraft were the older ones. It must have been that old railroad money, she surmised.

The inside of the store smelt wonderful, much to the Agents' surprise. Incense, scented candles, and a variety of spices filled their senses in a mix that was soothing rather than overwhelming. It was one of the smallest grocery stores Scully had set foot in, and was unlike anything she'd ever seen in DC. The flooring was made of old, polished wood that glowed in the soft light of the low hanging ceiling lamps. The shelving units held hand packaged bulk foods, such as rice, beans, and an unending amount of nuts and dried berries. An entirety of a wall was dedicated to teas and spices. On one side of the store, people helped themselves to flour, pouring out the desired amount into a bag and placing it in their grocery baskets.

"Do you need help finding a supplement?"

Mulder looked up to find that they were standing near a shelf with bottled vitamins and capsules with labels like "Ashwagandha root" and "Bella Donna."

Scully made a small noise in the back of the throat and he inwardly grinned, knowing exactly what she thought of the less than modern and completely herbal remedies.

"No, We're with the FBI. Agents Mulder and Scully," he replied, and took out his badge, Scully doing the same.

The woman who'd spoken to them waved her hand. "Don't bother, Agent." She held out her hand and Mulder Shook it. "Suzanne Flemming. Sheriff Ambler already told me you were in town. let's go in the back, if that's alright with you?"

The agents nodded and were led into another room. Shelves of white buckets filled the area, labeled with various foods. In the middle of the room sat a large, wooden table. "Sit down, sit down," the woman urged. The agents sat on some stools as the woman pulled up an old leather computer chair. "Now, what can I do for you?"

"We're here to ask some questions about Dmitri Samoset."

The woman closed her eyes as if in pain and nodded slowly. Though she was younger than Dmitri by about twenty years, she suddenly seemed to have a motherly air about her, as though she were saddened by the death of someone she took care of.

Maybe she did, Scully realized. Maybe she did take care of him and make sure he had what he needed in order to be okay by himself.

"Dmitri was a good customer here. And..a friend. We've known-well, had known- each other for years. She tucked an imaginary strand of gray hair behind her ear. "He didn't like being in crowds or working with people too much, but…"She took a steadying breath. "He was always polite, and one of our best customers. " She gave a shaky smile. "I always made sure my girls gave him 20% off his purchase-that's twice the senior discount. Because I wanted to make sure he had enough to get from one end of the week to another. "

Scully glanced over at Mulder, not at all surprised at the look of empathy on his face. If he could understand the mind of a killer, then he sympathized and identified with the people who'd lost their loved ones by a hundredfold. His voice soft and controlled, he asked, "The last time you saw him...did he show any signs of abnormal behavior? Did he seem scared or agitated?"

To the agents' secret surprise and pleasure, the woman didn't seem confused or put off by the line of questioning. She seemed to realize that they had a job to do and she spoke with efficiency to answer them.

"No. He drove here, and bought his usual fare. And before you ask me," she added, "He wasn't acting strange, either. He showed no signs of Alzheimer's or dementia."

Scully had to admit, she was impressed.

"Ms. Flemming, do know of any disagreements Dmitri might have had with anyone?"

"No, of course not. He might not have enjoyed company over much but he was never rude or argued with anyone." She shrugged. "Mostly Dmitri preferred his own company because a lot of the people here can't understand him, and he was old when he moved here. Never quite got a hold of American customs."

"Can't understand him?"

"He has-had-a thick slavic accent and often asked questions about how this or that was done or how American money worked. Nothing that would have caused anger. Just a bit of culture shock for an old man from a foreign country."

"So he has no family here?"

"No, none. He doesn't talk about it, but I'm pretty sure he lost any family he had during the Second World War."

Scully nodded. "His wrist was branded."

Suzanna looked up, surprised. "How did you know that?"

"I performed the autopsy on Mr. Samoset. He had a brand on his wrist. Like the ones used in concentration camps."

Suzanna nodded, this time in deep thought. "I suspected, but I never knew for sure. I hope you catch whoever did this, Agents. I have a lot of friends and customers who need to feel safe."

Mulder smiled, putting on the charm to lightened the mood. "We're doing the best we can, Ma'am. You'll know if we find anything."

"Good. Well, I assume you can show yourselves out, as I've got some business to address."

The agents rose as Suzanna left. "What do you think, Scully?"

"I think she's telling the truth. And extremely kind."

"What d'ya say we find that 'guide' and head to Samoset's cabin?"

"Go ahead to the car, I'm going to stay a few minutes first."

"Ooh, Scully, looking to bring home a souvenir from Vermont? You're such a tourist."

Scully rolled her eyes. "At least I didn't bring back a pair of overpriced, tacky sunglasses from Graceland."

"Ouch."

* * *

"Hey, Scully, what took you so long?"

In response, she tossed her bag at Mulder, who caught it easily.

"What's this?" He asked, inspecting the package.

"Chocolate covered sunflower seeds." He looked at her strangely before shrugging and tearing the package open.

Pulling out into traffic, Mulder informed Scully that while she'd been in the store, he had contacted Sheriff Ambler and was able to secure a guide for the trek to Dmitri's home.

After driving past trees and wildlife for thirty minutes, Scully was seriously beginning to doubt Mulder knew where they were going.

He didn't tell her the relief he felt when he saw a man standing on the side of the road, who perked up at their approach not with the hope of a hitch hiker, but the expectancy of an impending meeting. This had to been the man Ambler had told him about-Corey Chevalier.

Corey Chevalier stood at the edge of the woods, next to two beaten down cars. Mulder assumed one belonged to the late Dmitri Samoset.

"You folks with the FBI?"

"Yes, I'm agent Mulder, this is my partner Dana Scully"

"Pleasure to meet you folks, we don't get many FBI types down here."

"I'm surprised," Scully answered, picking her way through the muddy ground, "You're so close to the border. I assumed there would be more government agencies up here."

Corey grinned, and it was obvious he did so often. His eyes crinkled easily at the edges and for a moment, Scully was worried his face might split in two. "Unless we're talking about smuggling maple syrup over the border, ma'am, I don't think we have much to worry about."

"Now, then," he said, no longer dealing with pleasantries. If there's one thing Mulder liked about this town, it was that people got to the point and had no time for big city pretenses. "This is where we go to get to Dmitri's home. It's a bit difficult to find the path, but once you do, it's pretty easy to figure out how Dmitri got from there to here every week."

He glanced at the two agents. "Y'all sure you're ready for a hike? It's about a mile an' a half, an' you don't look too dressed down for it."

Scully smiled. If only he knew that she often found herself chasing suspects in heels. Her flats and tailored pantsuit were her acquiescence to the temperatures and Vermont landscape. Mulder was similarly dressed, his suit not providing much more protection than hers.

"I think we'll be fine. A mile and a half isn't that bad."

The man looked at them, skeptical. "All right, but if you get cold or break an ankle in those fancy shoes of yours, don't blame me. "

With that, they headed into the dense foliage.


	4. The Yellow Wood

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,  
And sorry I could not travel both  
And be one traveler, long I stood  
And looked down one as far as I could  
To where it bent in the undergrowth"

-Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken

* * *

Scully had had a lot of experience with, as Mulder called them, "nice trips to the woods."

She'd seen dense, green forests, with thick vines and moss. There were woods that went on for miles and miles, mostly stripped of leaves and dead looking. There were woods that were nearly black during the daytime, and some that resembled bushes more than trees.

She'd never been in a wood quite like this.

It wasn't close to sunset, but the filter of the sun made the place glow with butter-like warmth. Muted through the leaves, the the sun softened the cold, alien world of the forest. The floor was scattered with an intricate weave of yellow leaves and gnarled tree roots. The reds and oranges that clung to the trees lit up in the sun, becoming brighter and more vibrant than she could have believed for a world about to become barren and white with snow.

Despite the slight chill, the forest seemed welcoming and serene.

She could very suddenly understand why Robert Frost chose the other path.

She'd must have said something out loud, because she heard Corey's response, "Yeah, almost make living out in the middle of nowhere worth it, donnit?"

She looked up to see Mulder flash a smile over his shoulder at her. "Didn't know you were such a fall spirit, Scully," he teased. "Maybe I should take you hiking for Bigfoot more often."

Scully huffed. "I thought big foot preferred lumberjacks to maple farmers." Mulder paused and held a large branch aside so Scully could pass, effectively allowing her to move ahead of him. "Maybe he's changed his hunting ground. Sweeter taste," he answered.

Scully smiled lightly and continued after Corey. "I think I'm beginning to make out the trail," she said, as if to let him know they were no longer helpless city agents in the world of the unknown. Corey didn't turn around, but she could see his head bob in the positive. "Yeah, it's pretty easy to locate once you get your bearings. I wanna make sure you can get to the cabin all right by yourselves, though. This isn't the only path in these woods."

Scully agreed that that was probably the best route to take. "So, Mulder, is there anything you're expecting to find in at Samoset''s cabin?"

"Honestly? Not much."

Scully stopped and turned around to stare at him. "But, Mulder-"

He gave her a soft smile, and gently turned her around so she could start walking again. "I don't think we're suddenly going to find a suspect, Scully. All of the other deaths have no discernible suspect or person of interest. No ransom note has come for Christopher Hardack. No enemies to speak of, no beneficiaries that could gain from all of their deaths-certainly not from Samoset-and they didn't owe money to anyone. So, what does that leave?"

Scully furrowed her brow, concentrating on keeping her footing on the uneven ground whilst trying to navigate through the case with Mulder.

"Death by natural causes. But what about their bodies? We couldn't find any concrete evidence of death by age because-"

"We're here."

Both agents looked past Corey to see a small, dark cabin nestled in the cover of the trees. It was nearly camouflaged into the trees around it, the natural hues of the wood blending with its environment. A few bits of human habitation lay about, a spare tire, a water spigot. But other than that and the looming cabin, there was nothing to indicate that anyone could have ever lived here.

The trio made their way to the front door. Corey easily opened it, while Mulder and Scully looked on, perplexed. "You knew the door was unlocked?" There was no mistaking the slightly accusatory tone in Scully's voice.

"I suspected as much, yeah. It's a small town, most folks don't bother locking their doors. And with Dmitri living out here all by himself...I figured he probably wasn't too keen on keeping his door locked."

The agents nodded and made their way inside. A kitchen of sorts occupied the entirety of the far left wall. To the right, a bed and some bookcases were pushed to the side, making way for a large table in the center. It was crammed with what looked like various projects in different stages of completion; a single chair stood by the only clear space on the table, a clear indication that the man did not take company to dinner.

Corey hung by the door, apprehensive about invading another's space even after death, but Mulder and Scully went on to do their jobs.

Mulder found some weapons, a hunting rifle and knife, some ammunition. Scully tackled the papers stacked on the table and the bookshelves, finding nothing more than some diary-like entries on the loose leaf paper and some novels in various languages-she thought she recognized Russian and some German. A few 'first reads' books in English were well worn and Scully suddenly felt a slight tugging at her heart for the isolated man. She shook her head of those thoughts when she heard Mulder's voice.

"Nothing here that I wouldn't expect to find. Scully?"

She glanced at her watch, surprised that a few hours had already passed. "Nothing here, either. Unless learning basic English while reading Tolstoy in Russian is considered criminal."

"Pretty heavy reading."

"In all this isolation, I assume he must have needed something to pass the time."

"So, uh…. You folks find what you needed?"

Scully started, having nearly forgotten about Corey. "Uh, no, actually. We'll probably be ready to head back soo-'

"I think we should stay the night."

Scully stared at Mulder, dismayed that he was serious. A similar look was shared by Corey.

"Mulder, you can't be serious."

"With all due respect, sir, I don't think that-"

"It could help with the case," Mulder said, with a pointed look towards Corey which clearly read _or I could arrest you for impeding the investigation_. Corey swallowed with difficulty and muttered about waiting outside before lumbering back into the cold autumn air. Scully, however, was not so easily persuaded by Mulder's intimidation tactics.

"Mulder, what on earth could we possibly find here tonight that we can't find in the broad daylight-such as it is-now?"

"I think the best chance we have on finding what's happening to these people is to stay in these woods. Whatever is happening to these people- the forest is involved. It isn't some slew of murders happening because of any motivation. It has something to do with the woods."

"Mulder, think about what you're saying."

"Scully," Mulder's voice was short. "How did those people die?"

"By undetermined-but almost certainly natural causes."

"Right. Natural causes, Scully. I think the forest plays a role in how these people have died."

He could already see her eyebrow climbing for the top of her forehead. "Mulder, woods can't just kill people. There needs to be a reason. Like exposure, or wild animals-"

"But we couldn't find a reason, could we? Scully, there has to be another explanation, and I believe it's in these woods."

Scully was still staring at him skeptically, but he could sense her resolve wavering. Even if she didn't agree with him, her need to solve the case for the victims and their families-or rather, what was left of their families- would overrule her desire to ignore any possible leads.

Even if he was the one to come up with them.

"Okay," she sighed, "But we still need to head back with Corey, and get some things for the night."

"Why?" asked Mulder, with an irritatingly innocent expression. "We have everything we need here, we've both brought flashlights and our weapons, there's canned food here. Besides," he added, "I wasn't planning on sleeping."

Scully pulled a face at his leer and the mention of eating a dead man's food, but he had a point. It was already getting dark despite the early hour and heading back to the Inn and hiking back here-most likely without Corey to guide them- would only make things more difficult, despite any intentions otherwise. And they sure as hell weren't going to get any further in the investigation if they stayed in the cabin all night.

"All right," she agreed tentatively, not enjoying the look of glee that came over Mulder.

* * *

Upon relaying the news to Corey, the agents realized that the man was not nearly as intimated by Mulder as they originally thought.

"Absolutely not," The Vermonter said, with an edge of anger creeping in. "You can't navigate these woods yourselves at night, and staying in Dmitri's home?" He looked repulsed by the idea, "You can't possibly want to stay in his home. The very notion-"

"Mr. Chevalier," Scully interjected before Mulder could retaliate, "It is imperative that we stay out here tonight. All of the bodies have been found in these woods, and it's highly plausible this is the only way we will catch whoever is doing this."

A wave a stubbornness and something else passed over Corey's face before he continued with his argument. "But, Dmitri-"

"We won't be staying in his cabin," Scully soothed, placing a hand on his arm in a intentional show of openness and understanding. "We just think that we should stay nearby because this is where the last murder took place."

Corey looked at her sharply. "Is that what you think it is? Murder?"

"Is that what you think it is, Corey?" Mulder stared at the man, tensing up. All the local news had indicated that these deaths were murders to the public. It was unlikely for anyone to think otherwise.

Unless they knew something.

"I-uh, I don't know." He finally responded, looking down at his feet and scuffing some leaves. "I mean, weren't the bodies weird or something?"

Mulder and Scully shared a quick glance. Now how had he known THAT?

Realizing his argument against their stay was only making them more curious he cleared his throat, indicating the conversation was over. "Right," he said, "Well, then...I guess I'll leave you to it. You'll be able to find your way out of here by morning-it should be light enough for you to see the trails by then. I'll come by if Amie says you haven't checked back into your rooms by ten. Just-don't wander off too far, an'…" He chewed his lip, in thought. "Don't head over to the river. We've had a heavy rainfall this season an' the current is strong and on the verge of flooding. It's deeper than it looks. Any water you need you can get at this spigot." He looked at over to the fountain in question, a hint of sadness in his voice. "It's not like Dmitri is going to mind."

Scully smiled and nodded, though it was purely for show. "Thank you, Corey. You've been a great help to us."

Corey smiled back at her, though it was tense. "No problem ma'am, sir," he nodded at Mulder before heading off back from where they came.

When he had disappeared behind the trees for some time, Mulder turned back to Scully. "He's hiding something." She nodded her head in agreement. "Do you think he knows something about these deaths?"

"He seemed surprised that you referred to them as murders. He doesn't see them that way…" Mulder trailed off before starting again. "A lot of people who kill manage to convince themselves that they haven't committed murder, that they are not guilty of any crime. But Corey…"

"I don't think he'd be able to commit that sort of crime, either, Mulder." Mulder glanced at her, grateful that she knew what he was thinking. "It doesn't rule him off the list, but I wouldn't say he's completely innocent."

"Do you think he knows what's killing these people?"

Mulder shook his head. "I don't know. Hopefully we'll find out tonight."


	5. Autumn Night

"Pennies in a stream  
Falling leaves a sycamore  
Moonlight in Vermont"

-Frank Sinatra, Moonlight in Vermont

* * *

Scully wrapped her arms around her middle a little tighter, wishing that she'd worn a jacket and didn't feel obligated to keep her promise about staying out of the cabin. Mulder didn't seem to have a problem with the cold, walking about and around the cabin, looking for clues that she knew he knew weren't there.

He always needed to be doing something to keep his mind occupied. Patience wasn't one of Mulder's strong suits.

It wasn't until she felt a sudden warmth behind her that Scully realized Mulder had been talking to her. "What did you say, Mulder?"

She felt his soft chuckle move her hair slightly. "I said, let's go check out the river."

"But Corey said-"

"Corey's hiding something," he reminded her. "And he all but demanded that we stay here. I think the river is our best chance for finding out whatever the hell is going on with this place."

"Okay...But how the hell do we find the river?" She turned around to find Mulder holding a piece of paper out victoriously. Upon closer inspection, she discovered that it was a hand drawn map from Dmitri's cabin, clearly marking out spots of importance for the man.

It was crudely drawn in sharpie marker, and the writing was Russian, but it was clear that the river was not far from the man's place of rest. She looked back up at Mulder's expectant expression.

The chase, it seemed, was on.

* * *

The chase, as it turned out, was easily worn thin by a quickly darkening landscape and many changes in direction that were not made clear on the rudimentary map. The once welcoming leaves and colors of the forest gave way to the browns, grays, and blacks that dominated the area, making it difficult to navigate the jutting roots and branches of trees. The small flashlights they'd brought with them barely cut through the layers of darkness and only provided a small beam light that was hardly conducive to finding evidence.

It wasn't until she'd heard a splash and a string of swears from Mulder did Scully realize that they'd reached the river. Biting back a grin, Scully managed to ask if he was alright without cracking up. Once he'd gruffly replied in the affirmative, they started looking for a place to wait.

Finding a fallen tree to sit against, Scully sat down with a groan. The long hiking was nothing new to her, though she wished she'd taken Corey's advice and worn sneakers instead of dress flats. She couldn't see them in the dark, but she knew they were cased in mud and that her stocking-clad feet fared no better.

In the dim light provided by her flashlight, she saw Mulder sit down next to her with a grimace.

"Hows that leg?"

"Wet and cold, but I'll get over it." She nodded in understanding, though she knew he wouldn't be able to see it. If there was one thing they rarely discussed, it was personal injuries. After all, she would know. "So, what do you think we'll find out here?"

She felt him move closer to her in order to lean against the tree trunk, and could thus feel him shrug. "I don't know. Hopefully, something. Corey had something to hide, and he did tell us to stay away from here…"

"Maybe he was serious about the water. After all, you did manage to step in it without going off into the ravine, and it sounds like it's moving fast." she pointed out.

Mulder agreed, but held fast to his belief that something was going to happen.

A few minutes passed, and the darkness of the forest gave way to pitch darkness. Scully shifted, not much enjoying the feeling of the moist ground seeping in through her dress pants. Standing up, she swiped off the dirt she couldn't see and stretched.

"Scully?"

"I'm just stretching out, Mulder. The ground isn't quite stake-out worthy."

"I'll remind you of that the next time we're stuck in a car for six hours with nothing but coffee and stale doughnuts to keep us going."

She rolled her eyes, though the effect was lost in the shadows. "That isn't quite stake-out worthy either, Mulder"

"Better than this," he mumbled.

_yeah_, she thought, rubbing her arms again for warmth._ Better than this._

Scully picked up her flashlight and flicked it on. "Where're you going?" Mulder asked, his voice filled with interest.

"We aren't going to see anything from here," Scully told him, taking his proffered arm and helping him up. "We might as well take a look around."

"I don't think we're going to see much of anything, Scully." She shot him a look, one that he could barely see in the flashlight's glow. Despite the dim, it was obvious she was exasperated. "This was your idea, Mulder," she reminded him. "Just stay away from the river bank, you should be fine."

He grinned. "So tell us, Doctor Scully, what exactly you're hoping to find."

Scully shook her head and moved forward, using the light and the sound of the over flowing river as a guide.

"These people died from natural causes, Mulder. They were all older, they were all in the woods by themselves at night. What I'm looking for is how they could have decomposed at such an accelerated rate."

"Any reason why tree roots would have started forming in a man's body when it isn't spring yet, Scully?"

"Plants grow year round, Mulder," Scully said, as she ducked under a low-hanging branch, "It might be fall, and these trees might be losing their leaves, but they're still growing." She sighed as she stopped, and shone the flashlight in a semi-circle before choosing a direction. "Bacteria can be responsible for accelerated growth of plant life, it could be possible that these people somehow got exposed to it and simply made decomposition happen faster. Corey did say that there has been heavy rainfall this year, and it's been fairly mild for late October in Vermont. Maybe the warm conditions, coupled with the moisture in the air simply-"

"Scully, we don't get calls from Florida with people having flowers popping out of their ears."

"Which is _why_," she started again, agitation creeping at the edge of her voice, "It could be bacteria of some sort or maybe some exposure to fertilizer or some other variant that would cause plant life to grow more quickly than it would otherwise."

"But_ inside_ the bodies, Scully?"

"that's where the anomaly comes in, Mulder. Maybe it's in the water, or maybe Ashton and the others were exposed to it from the sap from maple sugaring, I don't know."

"Wanna know what I think, Scully?"

He could practically hear the eye roll in her voice. "That somehow the forest is claiming these people and turning them into plant food?"

"Looks like I'm out of the job, Scully, you already know what conclusions I'm going to draw."

"It wasn't that difficult to guess, Mulder. I just thought of the most ridiculous explanation, and knew you would believe it."

He grinned. "But now the real question is, why them? Lots of people here camp in the woods and know it well, but only the older people are dying-"

"It's because they die from natural causes, Mulder."

"Maybe," he admitted, "or maybe there's a reason they're being chosen by the forest."

"You don't think they angered it, do you?" She responded, with disbelief and a hint of sarcasm.

"I don't know, Scully. These people loved nature-maybe the forest could sense that and wanted their bodies because of it. Maybe we're both right. Maybe it's the forest calling to these people but they're older because it's easier to manipulate them into coming here."

"IF," Scully started with emphasis, "IF you're right, then why haven't we found any small children? Surely they would be just as easy to target as the elderly?"

Mulder opened his mouth to say something when he heard Scully's _Oomf _and he reached out blindly to catch her. Pulling her upright, he asked, "You alright?"

"Yeah," She breathed, pointing her flashlight to the ground, its bulb dimly glowing. "But I think I just found Christopher Hardack."


	6. Hardack and Others

"I could not look upon the peaks of Ascutney, Killington, Mansfield, and Equinox, without being moved in a way that no other scene could move me...Here my dead lie pillowed on the loving breast of our eternal hills."

-President Calvin Coolidge, Brave Little State of Vermont Speech

* * *

The body was so twisted and gnarled that at first Mulder had trouble seeing it, even with the narrow beam of the flashlight illuminating it. The body lay arched against the ground, its head half buried in the ground, the chest thrust out towards the sky whilst the legs and arms bent at awkward angles below it. All signs of clothing had disappeared, and the torso looked mummified- it was a murky brown color, and had deep wrinkles. Not wrinkles, Mulder noted after a slight pause, but grooves. Like the ones found in Kenneth Ashton's body.

Like the rough lines found in tree bark.

Moss grew in various patches along the corpse, dark and moist-with blood? despite the advanced decay of the body, it smelled pungent and fresh with death. In truth, it did not smell all that different from some of the more tropical forests he and Scully had been in. They had smelled that particular scent found only in dense vegetation and the constant smell of over-ripe and dying plant life.

Mulder stood frozen over the body, it's humanity stripped away by nature and was only jarred out of his reverie by the sound of Scully shuffling leaves around. He looked down to see her crouching down by the body.

"Scully?" He winced. His voice sounded a pitch higher than it should have.

"Mulder, take a look at this." He didn't particularly want to look at whatever _this_ was, but the incredulity that laced Scully's voice bordered on awe, and he bent down to join her.

She held the flashlight close to the ground, and pointed to her find, not daring to touch it out of the innate need to keep the crime scene as undisturbed as possible.

What appeared to be a thick root, but which Mulder instinctively identified as the arm of the man, thinned out until it became a brown lump. Stemming from the mass was-

fingers.

The man's hand ended in fingers that were long, spindly and gnarled twigs that bent menacingly, like that of a scarecrow.

Mulder swallowed and glanced at Scully. He could practically see her scientific mind whirling, trying to figure out how this entered into theories of biology and natural science.

"This is incredible, Mulder. Hardack has only been missing for two weeks at the most. This kind of decay- There must be some sort of biological agent at work, or-"

"Shh!" Scully whipped her head up. "Wha-"

Quickly, Mulder flicked off her flashlight and put a steadying hand on her arm, a gesture which clearly meant_ Be quiet. Listen. _

There it was, again.

A quiet rustling, just discernible over the gurgling of the river.

Both agents stiffened, not knowing where the sound was coming from or if it was even a threat.

All grew quiet again.

Mulder and Scully had barely relaxed their stances when they heard a deep voice ring through the trees. "Alright, I think here is fine. I don't see any sign of them."

Though both agent's didn't dare speak, they both recognized the voice: Corey Chevalier.

A myriad of responses in other people's voices filtered through the dark for a few more minutes before the agents gratefully realized that the group was not coming any closer to them-wherever they were.

Just as Scully could feel Mulder starting to shift around anxiously, a loud crackling and a collective of relieved sighs indicated that a fire had been started. A few moments after that, a warm glow could be seen through the brush that obscured the group of locals from the agents-and the agents from the prying eyes of the group.

Moving as quietly as they dared, the agents scooted to the edge of the path that they were on and peered through the leaves of the low-growing bushes.

No more than ten feet away stood Corey Chevalier and about six others. They formed a semicircle facing away from the agents, towards the fire. Squinting, Mulder craned his neck to see past one of the members, into the flames.

And saw an old man sitting feebly in a wheel chair, gazing calmly back at the group and the bon fire.

"Mulder," Scully whispered, an odd mixture of excitement and incredulity in her voice, "Isn't that Doris Rue's husband?"

**A/N: I bet you're grateful for reading "the victims" chapter now- it wasn't a complete waste of your time, after all. Well, folks, that's the****_ last _****installment for a good long while...I'm leaving and won't have any access to the internet for about two months (withdrawal will be an issue, for sure). Hopefully this keeps you on your feet until then. Happy Holidays! **


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